


The Greater Influence

by whatUseeintheshadows



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, Post-Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1839937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatUseeintheshadows/pseuds/whatUseeintheshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Season 9 oneshot. The Blade was talking to Dean. Calling to him. Singing to him. As a demon now, can anything stop the influence of the First Blade, or is Dean destined to pick up the weapon and go down a dark road he can never return from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greater Influence

The Blade was talking to him. Calling to him. _Singing_ to him.

Crowley was gone. It had taken Dean a while (too long… much too long) to come to terms with what he had become and he wasn’t sure how much of a role the demon had played in it. Oh sure, the King of Hell had sworn up and down that he hadn’t known, not for sure, what was going to happen, but Dean couldn’t take him for his word on that. Demons lied. _Demons?... You’re a demon now too. Watch what you say about your own kind, dumbass._ But no, he wasn’t like them. He couldn’t be, despite that voice in his head that was trying to freak him out. _Trying?_ Okay, maybe succeeding. In any case, having Crowley there, attempting to convince him that all of this was a good thing wasn’t helping. And it had been so very easy to get rid of him once Dean had decided to. All it had took was gripping the Blade in his hand and stalking towards the demon menacingly, allowing that terrible bloodlust to show in his ( _black_ ) eyes, growling out threats of what he’d do to Crowley for his part in all of this, and Dean had found himself alone in the long ago abandoned mansion that he’d been transported to moments after he’d awoken. 

How long _had_ he been there? A day at least. Between listening to the full story, trying to confirm (okay, at first deny) the truth, and then arguing with Crowley, time had passed quickly. And once he was alone, Dean had just stood there for what had seemed like forever. Then he’d felt that familiar sensation of the First Blade telling him to go and find something… someone… _anyone_ … to kill. Dean’s hand had shaken as he had considered giving in and doing what the Blade wanted. He _was_ a demon after all…

_But what would Sam think?_ Yeah, his brother would be sickened to know that Dean had gone on a killing spree. Of course Sam was sickened by him anyways, so what would it matter? But no, he couldn’t let Sammy down. Sam didn’t want him using the Blade. _Sam wouldn’t want anything to do with you now that you’re a demon._ All the conflicting thoughts that had been bombarding him since he’d first opened his ( _black_ ) eyes had gotten to be too much and Dean had dropped the First blade on the ground, where it had laid ever since.

Now though, now the Blade wouldn’t leave him alone. It was so loud in his head. Insistent. And very seductive. Yet he didn’t want it. Just as he didn’t want to be what he was. And what the hell was up with that? As a demon, shouldn’t he just… not care? And boy, wouldn’t that be easy right now. Because then he could just give in and pick up the Blade… 

Dean found himself standing in front of the weapon, even though he was almost certain that he was across the room from it just moments ago, and staring at it to the point where he wasn’t even blinking his ( _black_ ) eyes. 

“Yeah, I get it! I’m a demon! Stop reminding me!” He growled at the voice in his head that just wouldn’t stop mocking him and leave him the hell alone.

And now he was going crazy. A crazy demon. Just perfect. Maybe it would all stop if he’d just pick up the First Blade again. Maybe he’d find some calm. Some peace. Or maybe he’d just find blood and death and become more a monster than he already was.

Dean dropped to his knees in front of the Blade. He stared at the object as if it was the only thing in the world that existed. Perhaps to him it was.

“Dean?”

No. There was something… someone… more important than the Blade. And somehow Dean was hearing his voice.

“Sammy?”

Now there were footsteps from behind him. “Dean, is it… but how?”

Sam was here. Crowley must not have taken him too far away and somehow Sam had tracked them down. Not surprising. Dean’s younger brother was smart. 

“Stop, Sammy. Just… don’t come any closer.”

“What? But why? Are you… are you okay, Dean?” His brother’s voice was filled with fear, caution, worry, and hope. Dean wondered what it would sound like when he discovered the truth.

“Depends on your definition of ‘okay’.”

“But… you’re alive. How? Was it Crowley?”

“No. Well, not really. Although he _did_ bring me here. And told me that you were summoning him.” Dean snorted. “We just keep going in circles, huh Sammy.”

“Then… how are you back, Dean.” Now he was sounding curious but still cautious.

Dean turned his head to finally face his brother. Sam’s eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of Dean’s own pitch black eyes and then the younger Winchester’s face hardened.

“Get out of my brother, you piece of filth!”

Dean let out a humorless chuckle. “Well, you’ll probably still think I’m filth, but I _am_ your brother, Sammy. Even if you told me a while back that we weren’t.”

Sam shook his head. “No… no, Dean wouldn’t have gone to Hell and even if he did, it would take years to…”

Dean cut him off. “I told you that the Blade was turning me into something that I didn’t want to become. I just didn’t know what. Or that not even death could stop it.”

As if talking about it reminded him once more, Dean felt the pull of the Blade again. He turned from his brother and looked back at the weapon. It was still lying there. Talking to him. Calling to him. _Singing_ to him. It promised him so much if he’d just pick it up and use it. And really, why not? He had nothing else. He didn’t even have Sam anymore.

Dean had gotten the Mark because he’d had nothing in his life, and now he had even less. Back then, maybe, just maybe, he could’ve eventually repaired things with Sam. And sure, he’d screwed up big time but at least he’d still been human. Now though, now he was… this. And Sam was surely through with him. Hell, his baby brother was probably standing there trying to think of ways to kill him right at that moment (not that Dean really believed that the Blade would let him die).

So, if the First Blade was all that he had left, why not embrace it? _Because it would mean giving in. And Dean Winchester **did not** give in._ But what was he fighting for?

Dean was shocked to see his right hand outstretched and reaching to take a hold of the Blade. The Mark of Cain was almost burning in anticipation and his fingertips almost brushed the handle.

Then he almost jumped in surprise as a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Please don’t, Dean.”

“Sammy?”

“Don’t pick it up. You don’t need it.”

“It’s all I have, Sam.” Damn, did he really just admit that out loud?

“You… you have me, Dean.”

“Do I?”

“When I found you gone, your body missing, I went ballistic. I knew Crowley had something to do with it. But then I just… Dean, part of me was thrilled because no body meant that you might not actually be dead anymore. So I started looking for you. And I vowed not to stop until I found you.”

Dean thought about making some snide remark about when he’d been lost for a year in Purgatory and Sam hadn’t bothered to spend even a moment to look for him, but then decided to let it go. Sam had searched for him this time. Sam had found him. Why open old wounds? _Huh, looks like demon-you has more tact than human-you? What’s up with that?_

“But now you have. And I’m a demon, Sammy.”

“Yeah. And we can fix that, Dean. I mean, we know how to cure a demon. And since it won’t be part of the trials, it won’t kill me to do it, so you can’t argue with me about it.”

Dean chuckled. They did know each other too well. “Won’t work, Sammy. I still got the Mark. This whole thing’ll start all over again.”

“Then we find out how to remove the mark first.”

“And if the cure doesn’t work ‘cause I’m not a typical demon? I mean, I didn’t become what I am the usual way, Sam. And I… I feel different, but I’m still me. I’m not Crowley 2.0 or anything. So, who’s to say the damned thing will even work?”

“Then we cross that bridge when we come to it. Together.”

As Sam was talking to him, the Blade was still calling out to him. Yet Sam’s words seemed to make the Blade’s call quieter and less urgent. Dean focused on his brother.

“Together, huh? As partners?”

“As brothers, Dean. Always as brothers.”

“Even if I’m… what I am.”

“Even if. Hell, I helped push you down this road. Now, I just want to travel it with you. Please, Dean.”

“And the next time I screw up, Sammy? What then? I find my demon ass alone?”

There was silence for a moment and Dean started to focus on the Blade once more.

“No.” Sam’s voice stole Dean’s attention again. “We… we just need to make some changes. No more secrets. No more lying. And no more walking out. We need to be a family again. I _want_ to be a family again, Dean.”

“Me too, Sammy.” Dean responded, both hands now down by his sides. “Me too.” That freakin’ Blade could shout all it wanted; if it came down to a choice between it or Sam, Sam would win out every time.

The hand on his shoulder tightened and Dean turned his head to look up at his brother. Their eyes met and Sam was suddenly pulling him to his feet and into a hug. Dean didn’t resist. Hell, he held on just as tightly. 

Things were beyond screwed up. He was a demon, Crowley was around somewhere and had possibly played a part in all this or at the very least had wanted something from Dean in the aftermath, Metatron still needed to be dealt with (unless Cas had handled that, but part of Dean was really hoping to get the chance to separate that douche-bag’s head from his neck), and the Blade was still trying to call to him. But Dean had his brother. Maybe even a demon could make it through a world full of crap with family by their side.

When the embrace finally (and far too quickly) ended, Sam took off his own jacket and used it to wrap up the First Blade. Dean didn’t even protest. As long as he had his brother, he’d never touch that damned thing again. He watched Sam tuck the weapon under his arm and then gesture to the door. Dean nodded. It was time to go home.

They made their way out of the place together. Side by side. The way it should be. The way it should always have been. Dean could still feel the pull of the First Blade. He could still hear it talk to him. Call to him. Sing to him. Yet, with Sam next to him; truly by his side for the first time in a long time, Dean knew that he could overcome anything. _They_ could overcome anything. He _was_ proud of them.


End file.
